


Confirmed Bachelor, Philip Carlyle

by Impossibly_Izzy



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Asexuality, Bisexuality, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Philip needs a hug, Philip's parents, Polyamory, Slight Cannon divergence, Slow Burn, bisexual circus dads, depiction of child abuse, domestic abuse, its not super dark but if you don't wanna read about abuse then avoid, rehashing of scenes from the movie complete with half-remembered movie dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-03-29 10:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impossibly_Izzy/pseuds/Impossibly_Izzy
Summary: Philip had attempted to squash his feelings for men and encourage his feelings for women, but somehow he’d never managed to get rid of the belief that he would never get married. He’d never met a woman who he could imagine building a home with.That is, until he made eye contact with a pink-haired girl suspended in the air by trapeze wires.





	1. Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've?)

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get married.” Philip had said. It was years ago now, but it was a day that was irrevocably burned into his memory.

“Of course you will.” Daniel had said. They were walking through the parkland that made up the majority of Daniel’s father’s estate, supposedly on a shooting expedition. Like all of their time together, the afternoon had involved very little shooting and a lot more furtive kisses and thoughtful conversations. “A ladies’ man like you will have women queueing up for the privilege.”

“But I don’t want to.” Philip remembered saying. “I mean, do _you_ want to?”

“Of course not.” Said Daniel. “You know I have no interest in women. But I suppose I will anyway – no doubt my father will want me to marry someone with good connections.”

Daniel was Philip’s first love. They attended the same boarding school and, through several years of friendship and occasional hints that turned into full-blown confessions, they had struck up a relationship. Their love was a beautiful, hidden thing, a flame that Philip always knew would have to burn itself out eventually.

“Your father is so old-fashioned.” Said Philip. And then, “I just can’t imagine meeting a woman who I wanted to live with, let alone raise a family with.”

Daniel laughed. “You mean you can’t imagine a woman you’d want to share a bed with?”

“That too.” Philip admitted.

They walked back to the house together, removing their outdoor clothes and retiring to the library as they talked comfortably with each other. Looking back on that day, Philip would regret every decision they made, every moment they’d felt safe. Because that day didn’t end well, for Philip or for Daniel.

The two of them had been alone in the library, so accustomed to being away from other people that they hadn’t thought twice about sitting close on the couch, about kissing each other.

When they heard the door of the library open, it was already too late.

Philip and Daniel scrambled away from each other as their fathers marched into the room. Daniel’s father was a picture of outrage, Philip’s calm disgust.

“My apologies, sir.” Said Philip’s father, in that deceptively-calm voice he had, that voice that had always made Philip’s stomach twist with fear. He seized Philip by the upper arm, his fingers like a vice as he dragged Philip to his feet. “My son and I will be leaving you now.”

As Mr Carlyle pulled Philip from the room, he glanced over his shoulder to see a look of terror on Daniel’s face that mirrored his own. And then the door was slamming shut behind him, leaving only the sounds of Daniel’s father’s raised voice.

Mr Carlyle retained the appearance of calm as they walked out of the house, as they got into their carriage, as they were driven home. It was only when they reached the confines of their own drawing room that the inevitable onslaught began. Philip’s father had raged at him before, but now Philip’s actions were fueling the words like flames against his skin. How could he have been so foolish – how could he have let his father see this most secret, broken, part of him?

Inevitably, his father’s words gave way to blows. Philip had no defence except for his arms in front of his face, no way to calm the situation. He was a disgrace to their family, his father told him, and Philip stood there and couldn’t help but believe it. All he could do was hope that Daniel’s father was more merciful than his own.

He didn’t see Daniel again, at least not until many years later. What he did do was get sent to a new boarding school, where he kept his head down and refrained from forming any close connections. If he could just keep from getting too attached to any of the other boys, he could keep from getting hurt. Not that it always worked – Philip’s father had an unpredictable temper and had always been prone to flying into violent rages.

Philip stayed away from relationships, and he stayed away from his father as much as possible. He dedicated himself to learning how to write plays, how to charm people, how to drink himself into a stupor.

He built walls around him to keep at bay the pain inflicted by his father. He built up barriers of charm and intelligence, a confident façade to hide the shame and fear that he carried around inside of him. And his inhibitions served him well, got him where he wanted to go in life, made him successful in his field.

So why, when Phineas Taylor Barnum offered to take his walls and break them down, did Philip jump at the chance?

Philip had spent more than a decade trying not to make his father angry, trying to stay away from him. He didn’t approve of the theatre, of course, but disapproval was something Philip could cope with. But this – joining Barnum’s circus – was something else. This could lose him his inheritance.

For what? For ten percent of the profits?

Philip couldn’t pretend, not even to himself, that he was in this for the money. He was in it for everything Barnum offered, every promise of freedom and excitement that he had made in that bar. And, however hard Philip wished it to not be true, Philip was in it for Barnum himself.


	2. I Just Want You To Know Who I Am

Over the years, Philip had attempted to squash his feelings for men and encourage his feelings for women, but somehow he’d never managed to get rid of the belief that he would never get married. He’d never met a woman who he could imagine building a home with.

That is, until he made eye contact with a pink-haired girl suspended in the air by trapeze wires. And in that moment, Philip felt like he was suspended too. Suspended in the air, in time, floating with nothing beneath him.

“Who’s that?” his voice was almost a whisper; he’d barely intended to speak aloud. He just knew that he wanted, needed, to know that girl, to talk to her, to learn everything about her.

Once the show was over, Barnum took Philip around the theatre and introduced him to everyone. It was a whirlwind; Philip knew he would only remember half of their names, if that. And then Barnum had led him down the stairs and was saying “WD, Anne, I want to introduce my newest hire, Mr Philip Carlyle.”

And then everyone else had faded from his mind. Because the girl had a _name_ now.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Said WD, shaking Philip’s hand.

“And what is your act, Mr Carlyle?” said Anne. God, she was beautiful.

Philip was almost too flustered to form a coherent reply. “I don’t have an act.”

She smirked at him. “Everyone’s got an act.”

She was right, of course – Philip’s whole life was an act at this point. And, somewhat ironically, the circus seemed like a place where he could drop it.

Well – drop most of it. Philip still felt a familiar fluttering in his stomach when he talked to Barnum or felt his penetrating gaze upon him. It was distracting – everything about Barnum was distracting. His deep voice, the way his face creased into dimples when he smiled, the way he seemed to have so much _presence_ wherever he went.

It was disconcerting that Philip felt so intoxicated by this man, at the same time as he was developing a fondness for Anne Wheeler – the first woman he’d had felt anything like this for. His feelings for each of them were so different, but nevertheless he felt like they should not coexist. Wouldn’t it have been simpler if his desire and admiration could have been focussed on one person – on one _woman_?

He watched the show two nights running, watched Barnum commanding attention at the centre of the ring (his outfit was ridiculous, and he looked irritatingly good in it) and Miss Wheeler flying through the air on her trapeze.

Once the crowds had filed out, Barnum had grabbed Philip for a conversation about advertising and promotion and whether an act involving lions was a good idea. Lions, for god’s sake – where did that man get all of these ideas?

Philip was walking towards the exit of the theatre when he realised that he was approaching Anne Wheeler, sitting on the front row of the wooden seats and lacing up her shoes. She was dressed in a simpler version of her trapeze costume, her dark curls free around her shoulders.

She was beautiful when she performed, but with all of the glamour stripped away Philip thought he liked her even better.

“Miss Wheeler.” He said, tipping his hat to her.

“Mr Carlyle.” She said, looking up and smiling.

 “I hope you don’t mind me saying that I think you were wonderful tonight.”

“Thank you.” She went back to tying her shoes, winding the ribbon around her ankle.

Philip leant against the railing separating the stands from the ring. “How long have you and your brother been performing on the trapeze?”

“Practically our whole lives – our mother learnt it from the Frenchman who invented it, and she taught us. She always said she was teaching us to fly.”

“That sounds amazing.” Said Philip. “I can’t imagine having a mother who taught me anything except how to be decorous and thoroughly boring.”

“Well, you seem to have unlearned that well enough.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, and Philip felt his face turning red.

“I don’t know about that.” He said, trying to shake off his shyness.

“I should be practising now.” She said, getting to her feet. “But I hope I can talk to you again soon.”

“Of course.” He said. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you, Miss Wheeler.”

“You can call me Anne.”

“Then you must call me Philip.”

“Okay, Philip.” She grinned at him over her shoulder, and walked into the ring.

The aerial hoop was hanging just above Anne’s head, and Philip watched as she took hold of it and lifted herself off the ground as though it was nothing. She span round, hooking a leg through the hoop and seamlessly pulling her body up and into it. The hoop rotated slowly in the air.

“I can see you watching me, Philip.” She said, and he blushed again and mumbled something about leaving. How did she always get him so flustered?

Anne laughed, and then flipped herself upside down, her legs akimbo as they twined through the hoop.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t approve of you hanging around a mostly undressed woman.” Said Anne.

Philip’s face was still hot, but he was regaining his confidence. “My mother doesn’t approve of anything worthwhile.”

He watched her for a little while longer, admiring how easy she made it look as she spun and flipped, as she hung from the hoop by her legs and balanced precariously in the air. And he left with a spring in his step, thinking about the conversations they would have in the future.

He didn’t know that night, but in a few weeks’ time they would be on a ship to England. The journey was ten days in cramped quarters, and by the end of it Philip felt like he knew the circus troupe much better than he had before. He had made an effort to learn everyone’s name and to talk to them all, but his attentions were focussed on Anne and Barnum.

Barnum had a kind of magnetism that drew Philip to him, a wild kind of energy. Philip was attracted to him – that much was undeniable. But he had years of experience of being attracted to men without acting on it, and that wasn’t about to change now.

He talked to Anne the most, on the journey and in England and more on the journey back. Anne told him about her childhood, about her mother, about people paying to watch her and WD on the trapeze since they were young. And, in turn, Philip told her about his stifling upper-class life, and about beginning to break away from it when he turned to playwriting. He left out so many important parts – Daniel, the lingering knowledge that he was _different._ His father.

Philip hated the fact that he wasn’t being honest with Anne, but he couldn’t tell her these things. He couldn’t let her see the broken parts of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos you guys :) This chapter is named after a lyric from Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls


	3. Say That It's Possible

Philip should have known from the start that introducing Barnum to Jenny Linde was a bad idea. Barnum was a showman, but he was also an entrepreneur, and he jumped on this opportunity to make money, to improve his status. But Philip told himself that it was okay, that this would be good for the circus. That is, until they arrived at Linde’s concert and Barnum told him that the stands were too _visible_ for the circus performers.

“What do you mean, too visible?”

“The acoustics are actually better in the standing room.” Said Barnum. Philip had never been able to deny his attraction to Barnum, but in that moment there was something ugly about him.

Philip would be damned if he would watch from backstage with Barnum. He followed the rest of the circus performers to the standing room area, and he stood beside Anne. The view of the stage was limited – in fact, he had a better view of the backs of the grey heads of the couple in the box above him. But he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

With every pair of eyes in the room focussed on Linde, Philip allowed himself to slip his hand into Anne’s. Her skin was warm against his, the feeling tantalising and yet _safe,_ like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. And that wasn’t a feeling that Philip was used to.

For a moment, he thought he could hold onto Anne forever.

And then the grey-haired couple in the box glanced down at him, and _oh lord_ – he knew those faces, those looks of disapproval. He saw the familiar flicker of rage in his father’s eyes, and instinctually he withdrew his hand from Anne’s. It was a response built by years of fear, years of knowledge that the only way to avoid pain was to hide any behaviour his father wouldn’t like.

And by the time he realised how it would seem to Anne, she had slipped away from him.

And then Barnum was there, pulling him to a party full of upper-class people drinking champagne. Philip tried to be present for the sake of the business, but all he was thinking about was _Anne_ and how he could make this up to her. He was desperate to get away, to see her.

When Barnum turned away the circus performers, Philip decided that he’d had enough. Barnum had rejected the people who made the circus _special_ – the people Philip had got to know, the people he felt he could fit in with. He had joined the circus to escape from his tiresome upper-class existence, and here was Barnum trying to drag him back to it.

So he went to the circus. And he met Anne’s gaze during the performance, and he saw the anger in her eyes.

 

.x.

 

Philip remained angry with Barnum, and for a while it was like he could forget that he was different. He was just a man feeling burgeoning love for a woman, for the first time in his life, and he was so close to losing her.

His attempt to apologise to her by taking her to the theatre had gone horribly wrong, because Philip’s parents seemed determined to ruin his life in every way possible. And, for once, Philip had stood up to his father, because he would not allow Anne to be insulted like that.

But, when he found her in the theatre, all the fight seemed to have gone out of her. The anger that he had seen on her face after Linde’s wretched concert was gone, leaving nothing but sadness and resignation.

He found himself pouring out his feelings, desperate that she should know how he felt. Because he could tell that the reason for all her sadness was that she felt the same way.

“No one can say what we get to be.” He told her.

He followed her into the ring, trying to explain himself, to prove to her that he didn’t care what his parents said about her.

“You think it’s easy?” she said. “You think I don’t want to run to you?”

And Philip argued, and Anne told him it was hopeless. And Philip told her that he would rewrite the stars to make a world where they could be together, and Anne told him it was impossible. And Philip tried to pull Anne to him, and she lifted herself off the ground.

So he stopped trying; he grabbed a rope and allowed himself to be pulled into the air with her. And with nothing but air beneath their feet, holding each other’s suspended weight, it felt like anything could be possible.

But when they came back to earth, she was sadder than ever. And she walked away from him, disappearing into the darkness, leaving Philip feeling more alone than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter, considering that I managed to condense three songs into it XD I prefer writing my own scenes to rehashing the movie, but I have plenty of stuff coming soon!


	4. I'd Follow You Into The Dark

Barnum went off on tour with Jenny Lind. In Philip’s opinion it was ridiculous and unnecessary – but at the moment he was glad to be rid of Barnum. If he wanted to go off traveling with some lady and parading around for the upper-classes, that was his problem.

Anne was keeping her distance from him, making sure they were never alone together, not speaking to him even in a group, barely looking at him. It hurt that she refused to try to make a relationship work, and it hurt even more to know that he had made her feel like she had to stay away from him. Most of all, he missed her. He missed the fun, the easy conversation.

Philip threw himself into running the circus, trying to distract himself from the pain of Anne’s rejection. He managed the circus team, making sure everyone’s voice was heard and that new acts were continually introduced. He took on Barnum’s role as ringmaster, commanding the audience’s attention each night.

It felt pretty wonderful, being at the centre of it all. Watching the circus had always felt magical, but being part of it was something else. He liked the energy of the crowd, the way each routine fell into place like pieces of a jigsaw; he even liked the way he looked in the ringmaster outfit. The only difficulty was his tense relationship with the trapeze artists.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. There was an underlying feeling that the circus was incomplete without Barnum at the helm, and as the ticket sales began to fall, the number of protestors increased.

And then, one night, things got very bad, very quickly. There had been a group of rough types loitering around the theatre after the show ended, the kind that made Philip nervous.

“Hey! Ringmaster!” one of them had yelled.

“Gentleman.” Philip said, civilly. “I am gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“This is our town, son.” The man got to his feet, slowly. “We think you should leave. You, and your freaks.” The others were beginning to stand up behind him.

WD was there, at Philip’s shoulder, and Philip was so grateful that, even with all of the tension between them, WD was there when he needed someone.

“And your _spooks_.” Said the man, advancing on them.

“I will only ask once more.” Said Philip, softly.

The man stepped forward. “And then what, boy?”

Philip didn’t even have time to react before WD’s fist was colliding with the man’s face. The man fell backward, and then someone stepped up and punched Philip. He went reeling, as the rest of the circus troupe appeared and the whole crowd descended into chaos. Someone got Philip in a headlock and he twisted, trying to pull away. He kicked the man in the shins, but was only freed when someone else hit the man around the head.

That was when Philip saw the smoke; a trail of black through the air, which distracted him from the fight just enough to register the sinister burning smell that hung in the air.

Something collided with the side of Philip’s head and he raised an arm to protect himself, even as he was pulling away from the fight, away from the rioters and towards the source of the smoke. And then he saw the flames, licking at a wooden doorframe.

There was a moment when Philip was frozen, when time seemed to pause. And it was just Philip, and the smoke, and the fire, and a quickly rising feeling of panic.

And then the moment was gone, and Philip was yelling out, trying to get everyone’s attention, not sure what he needed to do but certain that _something_ must be done. But he couldn’t get the words out, terror squeezing his throat, and he couldn’t make himself heard over the noise of the fight.

“Fire!” someone else yelled suddenly. It was a man – a stranger – one of the protestors, bursting through the burning doorway. The man was loud enough that a few people heard, and those people began to scramble for the exits.

“Everyone needs to get out!” Philip yelled, finding his voice at last. He pushed his way through the crowd and into the main area of the theatre, into the circus ring, as he repeated the cry. The fire was spreading, creeping up the wooden stands. The building had quickly descended into even more chaos than before, and protestors and circus performers fought to get out of the doors.

But Philip did not run for the exit; he stayed inside, calling out, making sure the other performers got out safely. The fire was growing quickly, the air hot and filled with smoke. He could feel it tearing at his throat, at the inside of his chest.

“Philip!” Called out a weak voice. It was Lettie, partially trapped under a fallen section of the stands. Oh lord, the whole place seemed about to fall down. Philip shoved at the wood, pushing it off her enough that when he grabbed her arm he could helped her out. He made sure that she got out of the building safely, and they stumbled onto the street together.

The night air was cold on his face even as he felt the fire’s heat at his back. Philip looked around him, trying to make sure everyone had got out. Trying to make sure _Anne_ had got out.

He couldn’t see her – why couldn’t he see her?

“WD, where’s Anne?” someone yelled, and it confirmed Philip’s worst fears.

_Anne._

He didn’t stop to think, he didn’t have time. He simply plunged back into the building. The fire was everywhere now, and Philip could hardly see for the smoke. His eyes stung, but still he searched.

He tried to call out her name, but the smoke in his lungs turned his shout into a cough, and coughing made it worse. He couldn’t breathe, there was a searing pain in his chest, but he couldn’t leave because _he hadn’t found Anne._

Philip felt like he was being burned even though the fire wasn’t touching his skin, burned on the outside and on the inside. He fell to his knees, struggling to draw breath.

And then there was someone else there – arms encircling Philip and lifting him. He felt fabric against his face, and everything hurt but through it all Philip thought _Barnum_ which was ridiculous because Barnum wasn’t _here_ , he had _left_.

And then the heat of the fire was receding, and Philip coughed as he gasped for air. Nothing was right – he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think clearly. The fire was gone but it still felt like it was raging inside of Philip’s chest.

And then there was a cold, hard ground beneath him, and then there was nothing but darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who saw tGS for the third time today? XD This chapter's title is taken from the song of the same name by Death Cab for Cutie - hope you guys liked it!


	5. Stay With Me (Beautiful Girl)

Philip came to his senses slowly and uncertainly. There was an aching pain in his chest and a soreness in his throat and head, but through the blur of pain and confusion he was dimly aware of another person beside him.

He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t understand what was going on. There was only darkness and pain, and that undeniable _presence._

And then, hot breath on the side of his face and a low growl in his ear. “Don’t go dying on me Philip. You’re far too important.”

When he woke up properly, it was to daylight and a hand clasping his. He opened his eyes blearily to see Anne sitting on the side of his bed, her face tear-streaked and anxious.

“You’re here.” He said, because he couldn’t quite believe it _._

She didn’t say anything. She just lent down and pressed her lips to his. And even though Philip hurt all over, even though he had inly just woken up and his mind was still trying to catch up with reality, the kiss was perfect. He didn’t care about the pain or about anyone who might be watching them, because in this moment it was just him and Anne and he thought he might love her more than anything.

He pulled away, eventually. Speaking hurt and his voice was just a rasp, but he said “You’re okay. I couldn’t see you – I thought -”

His body was wracked by coughs, and he wasn’t sure how to continue anyway.

“I can’t believe you went back in there for me.” She said, smiling through her tears.

“Of course I did.” He said. And then, “What happened?”

“I came out of the back exit.” She said. She was still holding his hand, her thumb caressing his skin. “And then I saw that you’d gone back in and I – you risked so much for me. Barnum had to go in and pull you out.”

So it really _had_ been Barnum who had rescued him. Philip knew exactly what it was like, how much courage it took, to run into a burning building. And Barnum had done that for _him_.

He didn’t know quite how to feel about that.

Philip also had a half-memory of someone, someone who was distinctly not Anne, whispering in his ear. It felt like a memory, but it was already beginning to fade in his mind to the point that it may as well have been a dream.

He _definitely_ didn’t know how to feel about that.

And anyway… “Why was Barnum there? What happened to the tour?”

“I think he ended the tour early – there was a picture of them in the newspapers.”

“Why? What picture?”

She leaned a little closer. “A picture of Barnum kissing Jenny Lind.”

“ _Kissing_?” Philip felt a churning in his stomach. He was shocked, of course he was, but there was something else too. Jealousy? Perhaps a little.

“Philip?” said Anne, drawing him from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me. And I’m sorry I pulled away from you – I was scared. But, if you’ll still have me, I want to… I want to rewrite the stars with you.”

She was crying, crying and smiling. And Philip struggled into a sitting position and he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently, his thumb brushing the tears from her face.

“I’m so sorry about my parents.” He said. With his forehead lightly resting against hers, he didn’t need to speak louder than a whisper. “And about how I acted at the concert. I should have behaved better but my parents – my parents are awful.”

“It’s okay.” Said Anne. “You don’t have to apologise for anyone else. And they only say those things because it’s what they’ve learned.”

“No.” said Philip. He pulled away a little, suddenly feeling a need to explain, to tell Anne everything. He glanced around them; there were nurses in the room, but all too far away to overhear. “There are things I haven’t told you.”

She bit her lip. “What things?”

 “I told you about how they want everything to be _proper –_ but I didn’t tell you everything. My father used to fly into a rage when I did something he didn’t like. He used to… he used to hurt me.” He took a deep breath; scare for what would come next. Braced for her pity, and then – when he told her _everything_ for her disgust.

“Philip.” She said, and it was not pity in her voice but pain. He couldn’t meet her gaze.

“There’s more.” He said. “The reason he was so angry with me… It’s because of me. I am… not quite like other people.”

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.

Philip struggled to find the words. It was so hard to explain, to articulate. “I have always… _felt_ for men, the way I ought to feel for women.”

And, just like that, Philip’s big secret was exposed. He hadn’t revealed it to anyone since he and Daniel had confided in each other long ago, and it felt strange to have said it aloud, to have it hanging in the air between him and Anne. He braced himself for her response.

“Oh.” She said, softly. He risked a glance at her, but she was looking down at their entwined hands.

“That is…” he continued, “Until I met you. I love you, Anne.”

She looked up at him, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks. He wanted to brush them away, to take away all the pain from her life.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

She shook her head. “Don’t be.”

“But I -”

“You don’t need to be sorry, because there are things I haven’t told you either. I -”

Anne stopped talking suddenly, and Philip followed her gaze to see a nurse approaching them.

“Mr Carlyle.” She said. “Your mother is here to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! The title is from the song Beautiful Girl by INXS


	6. You Don't Have To Care, So Don't Pretend

“Perhaps your visitor would like to wait outside?” The nurse said.

Philip was still reeling. His _mother_ was here?

“Oh, I should go.” Said Anne, getting to her feet. Philip let go of her hand regretfully.

“Come and see me again soon?” He asked, and she nodded. As she followed the nurse out of the room, Anne looked back over her shoulder and gave Philip and encouraging smile.

And then she was gone, and Philip’s mother was there in her place. She stood over him regally, her greying hair twisted up under her hat, a stiff collar covering her neck. Everything about her seemed to represent the world that Philip had left behind.

“Philip.” She said.

“Mother.” He mirrored her stiff tone.

“Your father and I received word that you were injured. I -” the words seemed to catch in her throat, and Philip realised that she was fighting back tears.

“Mother,” he said again, but with more tenderness. “I’m alright now.”

She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, before pulling up a chair to his bedside. “I was so worried, Philip – I couldn’t stand the idea that we could have lost you.”

Philip didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen his mother like this before – full of emotion. He hadn’t realised that she _cared_ about him like this, and he felt a strange kind of guilt.

And then she said “How _could_ you have got involved in something so dangerous?” And Philip’s guilt was gone.

“You want to blame this on the _circus?”_ he said, familiar anger bubbling up inside of him.

“This has clearly been brought about by associating with dangerous people. The fire was started by _protestors_ , was it not? You cannot tell me that that would have happened in any respectable establishment.”

Philip was tired of this. He was tired of his parents’ scrutiny, tired of _respectablility,_

 “Mother,” he said. “I went back into that fire for Anne. Because I love her.”

And there was that look on his mother’s face that Philip knew all too well, that look that said that she was appalled by his choices. “That is exactly what I’m talking about, Philip. You have allowed yourself to be led astray – courting a woman who is so far beneath your station, performing for commoners! You are under the influence of that awful conman.”

Philip stuttered as he tried to find the words to retort, leading into another coughing fit. She leant closer to him, her voice low and furtive, but angry. “I have not forgotten the folly of your teenage years. I know that that Barnum man is leading you to sin once again.”

“What?” Philip was blushing, which he knew was ridiculous because his mother was so far from the truth. Yes, he had been attracted to Barnum, but there had never been anything between them – Barnum was married, after all – and, ever since the trip to England and Barnum’s acquaintance with Jenny Lind, Philip had been increasingly angry with Barnum. And anyway, he had been focussing all of his outward attentions on Anne.

Barnum certainly hadn’t been ‘leading him to sin’. The sin of attraction had been there, but that had all been Philip’s doing.

“Mother.” He said, firmly. “If you have only come here to insult my friends and the woman I love, then I think you have said enough.”

“Come back to us, Philip.” She said, and her words cut through Philip’s anger.

“Mother?”

“You can get away from all of that, Philip. Your father is willing to reconsider cutting your inheritance – you could regain your status. It isn’t too late.”

While her voice was angry, his was steady. “What on earth makes you think I would want to leave the life I’ve created for myself?”

“What on earth makes _you_ want a life like that? A life of poverty and ridicule?” Her face was a picture of frustration. “Your father and I have given you a good life, Philip – how can you throw it away like this?”

She said it as though it was perfectly logical, as though Philip was making a ridiculous choice. And he was going to argue, was going to spell out all of the benefits of a life with the circus, was going to tell her how much he had hated his life with his parents. He was going to tell her what it was like to have family that was created not by blood but by choice, a family that loved each other rather than inflicting pain. He was going to tell her how it felt to stand in the centre of a circus ring, surrounded by wonderful people and bright lights and an ecstatic crowd.

“Because I love it.” He said.

And that was all he said, because she didn’t deserve any more of an explanation than that. This was a woman who had stood aside and allowed his father to hurt him for years, a woman who had come to visit him in hospital only to criticise him and his choices.

“You’re being ridiculous.” His mother hissed.

“Why are you _here_?” said Phillip, anger beginning to seep into his voice.

She made a sound of frustration, tears welling up in her eyes once again. “Because you father and I _care_ about you.”

And he could tell that a part of her did – she was crying beside his hospital bed, after all. But why couldn’t she see that the most caring thing was to let him live his life the way he chose?

“We just want to _help_ you – come back to us, Phil.”

Philip couldn’t look at her; there were tears in his own eyes now. He knew he could never go back to his parents, never reclaim that inheritance. His father had done too much damage, and he wasn’t even here to try and make up for it. If he was sorry, then he would be here.

“Please leave.” He said quietly. His stomach was twisted with guilt at his mother’s tears, but he knew he was right.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she wiped her eyes and got to her feet, and his heart felt heavy in his chest as he watched her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that chapter! The title is from Best Fake Smile by James Bay :) Also, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments!


	7. Back To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has A LOT of straight-up movie dialogue, but I thought it was too important to leave out. Enjoy!

Philip’s next visitor was Lettie, who cried and fussed over him, even as he assured her that he was alright. And he _was_ – the pain in his chest was beginning to recede, and the doctor told him that he would be able to leave in a few days.

“Has Barnum been here?” Lettie asked him.

“No.” said Philip, even though he wasn’t entirely sure it was true.

“He’s awfully cut up about everything. The rest of us went to talk to him yesterday – we wanted to show him what the circus meant to all of us. How it wasn’t just about him.”

“What happened?” said Philip.

“It was – oh Philip, it was amazing. I think we really got through to him – he said that things are going to change. That he realised what was really important, that his family and the circus matter more than fame.”

“Really?”

“He finally treated the rest of us like equals – the way _you_ do. Well, until he ran off. I think he went to make things up with Charity as well. Poor girl – I don’t know how she puts up with him.” Lettie laughed affectionately.

“Anne said something about a picture of him and Jenny Lind.” Philip recalled.

“Oh, _that_. That will have blown over soon – and he’s not working with Lind anymore.”

“So, there isn’t anything… going on between them?” Philip asked, hesitantly.

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, hon.”

There was silence for a moment, before Philip remembered another question, one that he should have asked straight away. “What’s going to happen to the circus?”

Lettie’s face fell. “I don’t know. Barnum seemed to be all for keeping us together, but he’s as broke as any of us. He’s trying to apply for another loan, but I don’t see how he could get one now.”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Philip knew that Lettie was thinking the same thing as him: promises were good, but without the money to re-establish the circus, they were useless.

“Anyway.” She said. “I’d best be going. I hope you feel better, hon.”

And then Philip was left alone again, with just his thought for company. And he had plenty of those – he was still thinking over the thing’s he had heard about Barnum, and about the circus, and about Anne. Because he was always thinking about Anne.

He wanted to give Anne a good life. He no longer had his inheritance, but he did have the profit from the circus.

Hang on. Philip had had an idea.

.X.

“Anne!” Philip had been discharged from the hospital after what felt like far too long, but had only been a matter of days. His burns and cuts were painful but healing, and his breathing was finally starting to feel more normal.

“Philip. Hi.” Anne was standing in front of the pile of rubble that used to be the circus. As Philip approached her, he realised that he wasn’t entirely sure how to act around her. He felt they had reached a point of understanding, of being _together,_ but they still had so much to discuss. She had reacted better than he would have expected to his confessions, but surely she would have more to say on the matter.

But she just smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “How are you?” she said.

“Oh, I’m fine.” He said. And then, because he needed to make sure they were okay, “I want to talk to you. About that stuff I told you in the hospital – I’m glad I told you, but you know none of that will affect our relationship, right? I love you, and that’s what matters.”

“I know.” She said. “Oh, Philip, I love you too.”

He returned her smile, before remembering something else. “Were you going to… say something before we were interrupted?”

“Oh.” She said. “Can we wait until we can talk about that somewhere more private?”

“Of course.” He said. But it made him feel uneasy.

“Hello, you two.” Came another voice. Philip turned to see Lettie and some of the others from the circus walking towards them. WD was among them, and he gave Philip a nod before holding out his hand for Philip to shake.

“Glad to see you better.” He said, with a knowing glance towards Anne.

“Thanks.” Said Philip.

“Barnum’s going to be here soon.” Said Lettie. “He’s at the bank, trying to get another loan.” Her voice was flat, her face downcast. Everyone knew how that meeting would go.

And then everyone fell silent, and simply looked up at the charred remains of the circus building. It stood over them like a reminder of what they had fought for and lost, ragged and empty walls against a bleak grey sky. Philip stepped forward slowly, climbing up onto the pile of rubble.

By the time Barnum arrived, everyone was sitting or standing on the stones that used to be the theatre, and Philip was helping Anne to recover her aerial hoop. It was blackened, but still recognisable.

Philip turned, and got his first look at Barnum since before the fire. He looked like he’d come off better than Philip had, and wore a dark suiter and a darker expression.

“The bank said no?” Philip asked.

“Emphatically.” Said Barnum, gazing up at the ruined building. “Repeatedly. I don’t think there’s a banker left in the country I can fool into loaning me more money, so…” he trailed off, looking around at the gathered circus performers.

And Philip had been so angry with Barnum for so long, but it was impossible to stay angry. Barnum looked so defeated, so humbled and human.

“I’m really sorry to disappoint you all.” He said.

“Don’t worry Barnum.” Said Charles, from where he was sitting. “We’ve gotten used to it by now.”

Philip saw the look of pain on Barnum’s face, and that was when he was certain of what he was going to do.

“You know, Barnum,” he said, stepping over to him, “When I first met you I had an inheritance, acclaim, and an invitation to every party in town. And now, thanks to you, all that’s gone.”

Barnum’s face was set, almost unreadable. Philip continued.

 “And all that’s left is friendship, love, and work that I adore.” He watched as Barnum’s face broke into a smile. And Philip was learning, more than ever, how good it felt to be honest, to allow his walls to break down. To show people what they meant to him. “You brought joy into my life.”

“Into all our lives.” Lettie added, and someone else called out “Hear, hear!”

“If only the banks took joy as collateral.” Said Barnum.

“They may not,” said Philip, struggling to hide a grin that kept threatening to break onto his face at the thought of what he was about to say. “But I will.”

Barnum looked at him questioningly.

“I own ten percent of the show.” Philip reminded him. “Knowing what I was working for, I had to good sense to take my cut weekly.” He revelled in the look of open-mouthed surprise on Barnum’s face as he realised what Philip was suggesting.

“Philip, I can’t let you gamble on me.” He said.

“Sure you can!” called out Anne.

“Don’t turn sensible on us now!” Lettie chimed in.

Philip’s gaze was fixed on Barnum. “Partners.” He said. “Fifty-fifty.”

He held out his hand, and Barnum’s face broke into a true, unadulterated grin as he shook it. “Partners.” He said, and the gathered circus performers laughed with joy.

Philip hesitated for a moment, not wanting to break the happy spell.

“The only thing is,” he said. “I don’t know how we’re gonna afford a building.”

“Right.” Barnum sighed, and they lapsed into a thoughtful silence. And then, “Building… we don’t need a building… real estate in Manhattan is a terrible investment. Why, I can get land down by the docks for almost nothing!”

He gestured in the direction of the docks, some of his old energy returning.

“All we need,” he said, with that wild look in his eyes that meant he was in the middle of an insane and yet brilliant idea, “is a tent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from From Now On, obvs. Hope you guys enjoyed it!


	8. Play Your Little Part For Me

If Philip was being honest, this didn’t look like the location for a circus. It looked like quite a lot of mud.

“Just picture it!” said Barnum, flinging out his arms as he walked ahead of Philip.

Last time Philip had seen Barnum, he had been humbled, his façade broken down and his raw feelings exposed. And the time before _that,_ he was pretty sure Barnum had pressed his mouth to Philip’s ear and told him he was _important._ And before that, of course, Barnum had pulled him out of a burning building.

So it was jarring, to say the least, to see Barnum swanning around with his old arrogance and excitement.

“The entrance of the tent would be here – no, here!” Barnum called out. “And the stands in a full circle around the ring!” he gestured with his arms.

Philip slowly followed Barnum as he ran from one side of the imaginary ring to the other.

“It’s going to be even better than before!” Barnum enthused. “We’re going to make your money back so quickly in sales that we can afford to bring on new acts – More animals! A knife thrower! Something with fire!”

He slowly spun around on the spot, and Philip could almost ignore the muddy field and see what Barnum saw.

“P.T, this sounds… amazing.” he admitted.

Barnum turned back to him and flashed that grin of his, and Philip felt that familiar flicker of lust inside of him. He’d been so focussed on his relationship with Anne recently, but that didn’t change the fact that when he looked at Barnum it was hard to look away. He held himself majestically; he wore his rumpled suit like it was a lavish ringmaster’s costume.

“I’ve drawn up some ideas for new posters.” Barnum pulled a sheath of paper from a pocket of his coat, and presented Philip with a crumpled sheet.

It was a sketch that would have been indecipherable if it hadn’t been for Barnum’s scribbled annotations; as it was, Philip saw that it was a plan for a poster depicting various circus acts. At the top were the words ‘Barnum’s circus – the greatest show on earth! Reopening in an exciting new location May 1st’

“The greatest show on _earth_?” Philip scoffed.

“Catchy, isn’t it?” said Barnum. God, he was ridiculous. Ridiculous, and hypnotic.

Philip just laughed.

Over the next few weeks, the circus began to pull itself back together. The tent went up, turning that muddy field into something with potential. Barnum had a batch of posters printed, all of which proclaims ‘Barnum’s circus is hiring unique and talented individuals!’, and Philip joined Barnum and the rest of the circus in putting them up around the city.

The posters drew in, among other things, a fire-breather, a knife-thrower, and a lion tamer. To nobody’s surprise, Barnum was _delighted_.

Everyone was keen to start rehearsing, even before the tent was really ready. Philip spent many days in there, watching the others practise their acts as the new stands were constructed around them. To begin with he was a little nervous around the lions, and _definitely_ nervous of the fire acts, but after a few days he decided that he was okay with them as long as he kept his distance from them.

As soon as the trapeze was rigged up, Anne and WD began rehearsing their new routines. Philip watched whenever he could, constantly in awe of the things Anne could do.

He was constantly in awe of her in general. They spent an increasing amount of time together, and it was a relief to be able to talk comfortably with her again after their period of awkwardness. They were rarely alone together, keeping their courting respectable and the pace of their relationship slow. They never seemed to get a chance to finish the conversation they had begun in the hospital, but Philip was sure that Anne would talk to him about it when she was ready. As it was, he was happy to spend time with her at the circus, talking casually or watching her on the trapeze.

And then there were run-throughs, full performances taking place for audiences of just Philip and O’Malley. Sometimes Charity, Hellen, and Caroline were there too, and they all sat in the newly-constructed stands and cheered and clapped with the excitement of any real crowd. The performers usually dressed in eclectic mixtures of costumes and more casual rehearsal clothes, with Barnum at the centre of them in shirtsleeves and looking increasingly dishevelled even with his top hat and ringmaster’s cane.

“What do you think?” Barnum asked him, after one rehearsal. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and Philip was finding his forearms ever so lightly distracting.

“As your business partner,” said Philip, “I would say that it seems very promising and that we ought to start making profit quickly once we reopen. And as an audience member, I would say… it’s amazing.”

Barnum grinned at him. “I absolutely agree. The new acts are great – and the _old_ acts are only getting better.”

For a moment they silently watched the ring, where various performers had broken off into groups to rest and rehearse. Barnum was leaning casually on the railing between the stands and the ring, and Philip couldn’t help noticing the outline of his arms, the sculpted lines of his face. The more time he spent with Barnum, the more he felt that same intoxication that he had when they had first met.

So maybe Philip wasn’t watching the ring anymore. He was watching Barnum.

Every time he found himself looking at Barnum like this, Philip felt the churning sensation of guilt in his stomach. He knew that wanting a man like this when he was supposed to be committed to Anne was wrong – if he believed what his parents and society at large were telling him, it was wrong regardless.

But he did want him. Undeniably.

“Do you miss it?” said Barnum, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Miss what?” said Philip.

Barnum made a sweeping gesture with one arm, encompassing the ring. “Being part of the action.”

He _did_ miss it, Philip realised. It was like the feeling had been creeping up on him unnoticed, but now that Barnum had pointed it out it was blindingly obvious. He missed being the ringmaster, missed conducting the perfectly tuned orchestra that was the circus. He missed being on stage with Anne and his friends, missed really feeling like he was _part_ of the circus.

“I suppose so.” He said. And then, hastily, “But it’s far more useful to be your business partner and keep your ridiculous ideas in check. And anyway, I don’t have an act.”

“Hmm.” Barnum’s face was unreadable.

Philip looked out at the ring again, watching Anne jump from one trapeze bar to the other in mid-air.

“Speaking of which,” he said, “I was wondering if you’d had any new ideas for the show.”

“Of course I do.” Said Barnum with a smirk.

“Well,” Philip said, raising his eyebrows at Barnum, “I was wondering if I could get you to _tell me_ these ideas so that I can stop you not to do anything stupid or dangerous. Although I’m sure you’ll go ahead and do them anyway.”

“You mean like getting the lions to jump through hoops of fire?”

“Exactly like – wait, you’re not actually planning on doing that, are you?”

Barnum just waved his hand and said, “I’m talking to the trainers about it.”

“You need to talk to _me_ about these things, P.T.” said Philip. He was keeping his voice light but injecting enough force to let Barnum know that he was serious. “We’re partners now.”

Philip expected Barnum to be defiant, but he softened and said, “I know.” This had been happening much more often since the fire; Barnum dropping his bravado and speaking sincerely. And _listening_ to people. “I want you to be part of all of this, Philip. Really part of it.”

Maybe it wasn’t just Philip whose walls were being broken down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we return to our regularly scheduled bisexuality. Chapter title from Skin Tight by Hunter And The Bear!


	9. The Only Road I've Ever Been Down

Philip and Barnum talked a bit more, and Philip made some of his own suggestions for the new shows. His ideas weren’t as wild as Barnum’s, focussing less on sensationalism and more on coherence, ways to tie one act to the next and make the show flow like the plays Philip had produced back in his previous life.

Barnum listened to all of his ideas enthusiastically, and then called out to the rest of the performers. “Everyone! Philip and I have some changes to make!”

And so they gathered back together and talked through the show, and then Philip helped Barnum to direct a rehearsal. Being involved made Philip feel good, feel like he was serving a purpose beyond helping the circus financially. It wasn’t quite the same as being the ringmaster, but it was _something_.

Eventually, Barnum realised how late it was getting and insisted that everyone go home and rest. By the time Philip and Barnum left the tent together it was almost dark, but Philip still didn’t feel tired. He was filled with the infectious energy of the circus, the same energy Barnum always projected.

“Fancy a drink?” he said. “My lodgings aren’t far from here, we could…” He tailed off, suddenly worried that he was behaving inappropriately. He should have suggested a bar – Philip’s apartment was far from luxurious, why on earth would Barnum want to see it?

And Barnum would most likely want to be getting home to his family, in any case. In the weeks since the fire, Barnum had been making a concentrated effort to spend more time with them.

“That would be… excellent.” Said Barnum.

Oh. Well. Maybe it was perfectly acceptable, if Barnum welcomed the invitation.

As they walked the few blocks to Philip’s apartment, they continued to talk about the circus, about ideas for the future of the show and the business. Barnum wanted to expand into three rings, and Philip was full of ideas for how they could utilise a setup like that.

Philip led the way into his apartment, pausing to light the gas lamps in the living room.

“This is nice.” Said Barnum, hanging up his coat and hat.

“Not compared to your house.” Philip pointed out.

“I’m not actually living there at the moment.” Said Barnum.

“Whisky?”

“Of course.”

Philip poured them each a glass.

“We’re living with Charity’s parents until I can afford to buy our house back from the bank.” Barnum said, accepting the glass.

“ _That_ can’t be fun for you.” Said Philip, as they both sat down on the couch.

Barnum shrugged. “I’m willing to put up with it, at least for the sake of Charity and the girls.” He sipped his whisky. “It’s not exactly ideal though.”

Philip took a sip of his own drink, and then said, “P.T, can I… can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“What happened to the Jenny Lind tour? Why did you end it early?”

Barnum gazed down at his glass as he swirled the amber liquid around it. “Surely you must have heard the rumours by now?”

“I mean, I saw the papers.” Said Philip.  “But I’m not interested in rumours. I want to know what really happened.”

Barnum’s voice was level. “I wish I could tell you that nothing happened, that I simply decided that being on tour was less worthwhile than being with my family, and with the circus. But I truthfully can’t.”

Philip watched him, waiting for him to continue.

“That isn’t to say that the rumours were right – it’s more complicated than that.”

“But you did kiss her?”

“ _She_ kissed _me_. But it wasn’t about kissing, or about an affair, or whatever the papers made it out to be. It was about me chasing money and success rather than being loyal to the circus, to Charity and the girls. In a sense, I did have an affair with her – an affair of loyalties, which I think is much worse than anything sexual would have been.”

He looked up at Philip. “Nothing like that ever went on between us, but I still feel like I betrayed Charity.”

Philip nodded, not quite sure how to respond. “Are you and her… okay now?”

“Charity or Jenny?”

“Either.” Said Philip.

“I haven’t spoken to Jenny since the tour. And I’m working hard to make things right between me and Charity. Of course, she didn’t believe the papers. She was angry, naturally, but not because she believed that anything indecent had happened between me and Jenny.”

Barnum had never really opened up to Philip like this before, and Philip would have thought about what that meant if he hadn’t been distracted by the fact that Barnum was talking to him about _sex._ He knew that Barnum must be far more experienced in that field than he was, and he felt a strange mix of jealousy and intrigue.

He poured each of them another glass of whisky. And they talked.

Philip gathered that Barnum hadn’t been attracted to Jenny Lind in the way she had clearly been attracted to him, and while they were on the topic Philip felt a compulsion to confess some of his own history to Barnum. He only stopped himself because he was scared of how Barnum would react, scared that he would break this moment of intimacy.

He talked about his relationship with Anne, though, about how she had visited him in the hospital, about how he had stood up to his parents when they saw him with Anne at the theatre. And Barnum told him about how Charity’s parents had never liked him never thought he was good enough for their daughter, and Philip told Barnum about how his mother had begged him to leave the circus.

And they poured more whisky, and got a little tipsy, and Barnum was his usual ridiculous, eccentric, exhilarating self. Somehow, he ended up trying to teach Philip how to flip his hat into the air with one foot before catching it and putting it on, except he kept getting it wrong.

And then they talked some more. And then Barnum grabbed the whisky bottle and said “Another?”

“Of course.” Said Philip. Barnum poured them each another shot and slid onto the couch beside Philip, one arm bracing him against the back of the seat so that, even though they were sitting side-by-side, they were facing each other.

“Cheers” he said. They clinked their glasses together, and Barnum grinned and downed his shot.

“Are you trying to get me drunk to agree to another one of your ideas?” Said Philip wryly. He drained his own glass, the whisky scorching his throat.

“I don’t need to get you drunk to agree to agree to my ideas.” Barnum smirked, and then gave a laugh that could _almost_ be described as a giggle. For all his bravado, he was obviously approaching intoxication significantly faster than Philip.

“I only agree to the ideas worth listening to.” He said, but there was a knot in his throat. Barnum was right in front of him, tantalising close, and it was utterly distracting.

“I think you’ll find my ideas to be worthwhile.” Barnum’s voice was low and gravelly, and yet it had almost a musical quality to it. His hands played with the ends of Philip’s undone tie, and Philip’s breath hitched as Barnum’s fingers brushed against his chest.

His throat was so tight he could barely speak. He didn’t know what was happening, but he was sure he didn’t want it to stop. “Barnum…” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“ _Philip_.” Barnum said, and his voice was a growl that sent a shiver through Philip’s body.

Philip licked his suddenly-dry lips; his stomach a knot of anticipation and his heart beating quickly in his chest. Barnum had his gaze fixed upon Philip, and Philip couldn’t look away.

In that one, crazy, moment, Philip was sure that Barnum was going to kiss him. His gaze was so intense, and his lips were so close. And in that moment, Philip suddenly couldn’t remember any of the reasons why he _shouldn’t_ kiss Barnum, and all he felt was the desire coursing through him.

Barnum tilted his head as he leaned a little close, and Philip could feel his breath on his face.

But then the silence was broken by a harsh banging sound, and Barnum was hastily backing away from Philip. It was tortuous, having been so close to him and to now have him retreating to the other end of the couch, downing another glass of whisky without looking at him.

Philip realised that the sound was someone knocking on the door, and regretfully got up to answer it, wishing that this visitor had not interrupted, had not broken the spell.

It was his mother.

“What on earth do you want?” Philip burst out.

That was when he noticed her ashen face, the tears in her eyes.

“Philip.” She said, her voice shaky. “It’s your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some ANGST? XD Chapter title is from Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve


	10. One Day This World's Got To End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out super long - well, long compared to the rest of them XD Enjoy!

“What?” said Philip, softening. His mother took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

“Come inside – sit down.” He led her into the living room and she took a seat on the couch, where Philip and Barnum had been sitting just moments before. Barnum was on the other side of the room now, collecting his hat and coat from the coat stand.

As his mother composed herself, Philip took a moment to address Barnum in a hushed voice.

“You’re leaving?” He said.

Barnum nodded. “This is clearly a family matter and I wouldn’t want to intrude upon it.” It made sense, Philip supposed, but he wished that Barnum would stay.

“Okay.” He said. He opened the door, and they stepped into the hallway together.

“I’ll come and see you tomorrow.” Said Barnum. And then he lifted his hand and touched the side of Philip’s face so gently that it was almost imperceptible, and the tenderness of the gesture made Philip feel like crying. He watched Barnum go, with the distinct feeling that this night could have ended very differently if they had not been interrupted.

When he returned to the living room, his mother looked up at him. And she didn’t say anything about Barnum, anything about Philip’s shabby apartment, and that was when Philip knew that something was really wrong.

“What is it, Mother?” he asked gently, sitting down beside her. “You mentioned Father?”

“Oh, Philip.” She said, all teary eyes and softness. “Your father is very ill. He wants to see you again before… before…” She tailed off into silence, sniffing and dabbing her eyes. She was still relatively composed as she fought back her tears.

Philip wasn’t sure what to say; wasn’t sure what to feel. There was an ache somewhere inside of him that might have been grief, but somehow that didn’t seem like the right name for it. At the least, he felt sorry for his mother.

“I’ll visit him if that’s what you want.” He said.

She nodded and told him that her carriage was waiting outside. And Philip, tired and tipsy and missing Barnum, went with her.

He hadn’t been to his childhood home in almost a decade, but it had hardly changed. It still stern and imposing, still grand but without taste. Every step he took up the grand staircase reminded him of a new reason that he had stayed away from this place, and by the time he reached his parent’s bedroom he wished that he was anywhere but here.

As Philip approached the door, it opened and the housekeeper stepped out.

“Sir.” She said, bowing her head and dipping into a curtsey. How long had it been since someone addressed him like that? “Your father is asleep at the moment, but by all means go in anyway.”

“Thank you.” He said.

Philip couldn’t remember coming into this room before – why would he have? It was as grand as the rest of the house, but all Philip saw was the four-poster bed in which his father lay.

Philip approached the bed slowly, the silence of the room only broken by his faint footsteps and his father’s laboured breathing. His father’s face was pale and sunken, like the life was already draining out of him.

There was a part of Philip that wanted to feel grief, that wanted to feel some part of the pain that filled his mother. But in reality, all that Philip felt at the sight of his father was the memory of harsh words and unrelenting blows. He remembered his father making him feel like his actions were shameful and wrong, remembered learning to hate himself. He remembered Anne leaving the theatre in tears after meeting his parents, remembered her telling him that society would never let them be together. He remembered his father’s fingers digging into his arm as he pulled Philip away from Daniel, all of those years ago. 

He remembered building up walls around him, and now that those walls were gone, he had no wish to rebuild them. He turned and left the bedroom, walking back down the stairs to find his mother in the drawing room.

“I’m going home.” He told her.

“Oh Philip,” she said, “Please don’t leave.” She started crying again. Philip was tired, but emotionally he was exhausted, like he just didn’t have the energy for feelings anymore.

“Why?” he said. “Mother, that man doesn’t care about me, and he never has. I told you before, I’m not going to come back to you and leave behind the life I’ve made for myself. I want no part of this life. And Father’s illness isn’t going to change that.”

“I’m not asking you to.” She choked out. “But I - Please, Philip, stay for a while. For me.”

“Why should I?” His voice was flat.

“Because I can’t lose you too.” She broke down in another flood of tears, and it was enough to tug at the strings of Philip’s heart. He sat down beside her.

“The reason I’ve stayed away from you is because of the way you and Father treated me.” He said, as gently as possible. “Surely you can see that?”

“I’m so sorry, Philip.” She said through her tears. “I’m sorry I let it get to this point.”

He watched as she went to wipe her eyes with a wet handkerchief, before offering her his own. She dried her eyes, sniffing.

“I never wanted to see you hurt.” She told him.

“But you did.”

“Philip… your father used to hurt me too.”

Philip’s whole body turned cold. This information made sense – his father was an angry and violent man – but for some reason it still came as a shock. Why hadn’t Philip known before?

His mother continued. “It started when I told him to stop hitting you. You were just a child – you couldn’t even defend yourself. I couldn’t stop him, but sometimes I could deflect some of his anger on to me.”

“Mother…” Philip didn’t know what to say.

“And then there was all that business with… I won’t pretend to understand your choices, Philip. You have chosen sin, and you have chosen poverty, and you have chosen a woman I cannot respect. But I have never wanted to see you hurt.”

There was a lump in Philip’s throat. “If you really care about me,” he said, “then you’ll care about my choices. About the people I love.”

She looked up at him with teary eyes. “Your father never gave me a chance to try.”

“If he was so awful to you, why are you so upset?”

“I don’t truthfully know.” She dabbed at her eyes again. “I suppose I’ve forgotten what it was like to be anything other than his wife – we got married so young, you know.”

Philip didn’t know, not really. He was realising now that he didn’t know too much about his mother.

“Will you tell me about it?” he asked, softly.

She sniffed, wiped her eyes, smoothed out her skirts. “My parents wanted me to marry someone of good status – we were wealthy, but they wanted a better reputation for our family. Your father seemed like a perfect choice. But it didn’t take long to realise that he was neither a good husband nor a good father – he isn’t a good man.”

Philip found himself wiping tears from his own eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I suppose I was frightened.”

“Oh, Mother.” He said, and his voice cracked.

It was late, so late, but they sat in the drawing room and talked some more. Philip realised how little they had known each other up until this point, and then the housekeeper came in and told them that Philip’s father’s condition seemed to be worsening, and they went to the bedroom, and neither of them knew how to feel as they sat by his bed.

Eventually, it was clear that nothing was going to change about his condition that night. He was still alive, for now.

But something _had_ changed; and it was in the relationship between Philip and his mother. Philip was cautious, not quite trusting, but he had decided that he was going to give her a chance to prove herself, to allow her to know him better.

When he saw the sun coming up beyond the drawing room windows, Philip told his mother that she should get some rest.

“Will I see you again soon?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Send for me if… anything changes with Father.”

Neither of them knew quite how to say goodbye to each other, so he just nodded at her stiffly. It was okay though; they were taking small steps.

.X.

When he finally got home to his apartment, Philip was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for as long as possible, to spend some time without needing to think about anything.

But there, on the doorstep of the apartment building, was Anne. The sight of her took him back to the previous night, to Barnum’s hand caressing his face. What had he been _doing_ – pining after Barnum without a moment’s thought for the girl he loved?

The guilt was like a weight in his stomach as he approached her, and when he reached her and she pulled him into a hug, it was all too much. He found himself sobbing into her shoulder, and she was holding him so tenderly, and Philip _hated_ himself for the way he had behaved the night before.

“Oh Philip.” She said. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He tried to control his crying, but there were still tears running down his face as he allowed her to lead him inside. At the door to his apartment he fumbled with the key, and then they were inside, and Philip was sinking onto the living room sofa and burying his face in his hands.

Anne had her arms around him again. “I’m so sorry.” She said. “I know this must be hard for you – I’m sure you have a lot of mixed feelings about your father.”

Philip just shook his head. But she was right, in a way – Philip had so many feelings about so many things that he couldn’t make sense of any of them. Anne just held him while he cried, and eventually he gained control of his breathing again.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” she said.

“Okay.” He said. “Okay, yes, I’m going to go to bed. You should go home.”

“I can stay.” She said, and he wanted to start crying all over again.

“Please.” He said. “I’m okay, I just need to sleep. I’ll see you again soon.”

“If that’s what you want.” She said. She kissed him on the cheek, and then she was gone, and Philip was falling into bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Face Down by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus


	11. Some Things You Do For Money (And Some You Do For Love)

Philip woke up too hot and entangled in his bedsheets. As he struggled to free himself, he realised that in his exhausted and emotional state, he’d fallen asleep fully dressed.

He dragged himself out of bed, still tired and bleary. He changed into clean clothes, and looked at the clock, realising that it was two in the afternoon – staying up all night had thrown off his perception of time.

There was knocking at the door. For a moment Philip thought that Barnum was back, and for a moment Philip _wanted_ Barnum to be back. But it was Anne, and Philip was both relieved and disappointed.

“I came to see how you were.” She said.

“I’m okay.” He told her. “Better than I was. Come in.”

He led her into the living room, saying “Thank you so much for being here this morning.”

“It was nothing.” She said. “Do you want to talk about anything? About your parents?”

“How do you even know about that?”

“Barnum told me – he was worried about you.”

They sat down on the couch together, and Philip told her about the night before, about everything he had learned about his mother.

“I just hope,” he finished, “That things will be better for her once my father dies. That she’ll be able to have some control over her own life.”

“Are you sad about your father?”

“No.” he said, and he tried to find the words to explain but he stumbled over them.

“It’s okay.” Said Anne. “I understand.” And he hugged her, and it was enough. He didn’t need to explain this to her.

“There’s something else.” He said, after a while. “When I was in the hospital, I told you…” He trailed off. Even though he had told her everything, it was impossible to force the words out of him again.

“About your… feelings?” she said, delicately.

He nodded. “You told me that it didn’t matter to you. But I just don’t understand – why aren’t you angry?”

“Should I be angry?”

Philip ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words. “I love you, Anne. But I don’t truthfully know if… my feelings for you are the same as those I have had for others. For men.”

He didn’t know how to explain without telling her things he couldn’t stand the thought of her knowing, without telling her that he had sat on this couch with Barnum the night before and _wanted_ him in a way that he could never imagine wanting Anne.

He braced for her reaction.

“Philip, I…” she seemed to struggle with the words. “I understand. What I wanted to tell you in the hospital was that I don’t feel for you in that way – I have never – for anyone. What I’m saying is that I love you in every way possible, but I don’t want…”

She looked away from him, embarrassed. Philip thought he understood.

“I always thought that I would never get married.” she said. “I know that a wife is expected to bear children and fulfil her husband’s wishes, and that’s not what I want.”

Philip laughed with relief, and when she gave him a questioning look he said “That’s exactly how I’ve always felt.”

Anne’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

“Are there any men… in particular?”

“No.” Philip said. He hated himself for lying to her, but he knew he couldn’t tell the truth.

 Maybe he and Barnum hadn’t done anything wrong, maybe his mother’s interruption had come at just the right time, but Philip felt sick with guilt every time he thought about what _might_ have happened. And he couldn’t stand the idea of Anne knowing; he couldn’t tell her any part of it.

“Okay.” She said. “We can talk about this anytime, if you want.” Philip wouldn’t have thought that it was possible, but he felt even worse.

“Thank you.” He said.

She kissed him on the cheek, and then said “I should be getting back to the circus. We have more rehearsals this afternoon.”

“I’ll come with you.” Said Philip.

“You don’t have to.” Anne said, gently. “I’m sure Barnum would be happy to let you take some time off, if you –”

“It’s fine.” Said Philip. “I’ll come.”

They walked the short distance to the circus together, and Philip wasn’t sure why he’d wanted to come. Maybe it was simply a desire to immerse himself in normality – or whatever counted for normality these days.

When they arrived, the circus was a bustle of energy, the rest of the ensemble haphazardly rehearsing their acts.

“Philip!” It was Barnum.

Oh, Lord - Barnum. Philip remembered Barnum caressing his cheek when they parted, remembered that moment when he had thought he was about to be kissed, remembered the longing that had all but consumed him.

“How are you?” said Barnum in a lowered voice, leading Philip into the shadow of the stands. “How is your father?”

And Philip remembered how Anne had held him as he cried. And he remembered how he had fought to be with her, and he knew that he wasn’t about to ruin that.

“Would you mind… If we didn’t talk about it right now? I just want to, you know. Watch the rehearsals.”

“Oh.” Said Barnum, his face unreadable. “If that’s what you need. But don’t feel that you have to come every day; take all the time off that you need. And if you want to talk, don’t hesitate to come and see me.”

He reached up like he was going to touch Philip’s face again, but changed his mind. And Philip hated watching him walk away, but, when he went back to Anne, he knew he was doing the right thing.

“Why don’t you go up into the stands?” she said. “You deserve a good view.” She gave him a flirtatious smile, which was so sweet and fun after all of the emotional turmoil of the last few days that it made Philip love her more than ever.

He climbed the steps into the stands and took a seat near the top, so that when Anne and WD climbed the ladders to the trapeze platforms he almost felt like they were in the air together. In the ring below them, Philip could see Barnum talking to Lettie and some of the others, but he was too far away to hear what they were saying.

He watched Anne and WD on the trapeze, mesmerised by the way they flew through the air, the persistent coordination between them. And it felt good not to have to think about everything, to simply sit there and watch. To enjoy to show.

“Hi, Philip.” He looked up to see Charity Barnum standing in the aisle, at the end of the row where Philip was sitting. “Mind if I join you?”

Philip didn’t have it in him to say no. “Go ahead.”

She sat down beside him, and they watched side by side as Anne flipped from one trapeze bar to the other.

“How are you?” Charity asked, and her words carried more weight than that of polite small talk. Barnum must have told her about Philip’s father.

“I’m fine.” Said Philip, keen to deflect her attention. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m alright.” She sighed. “I gather Phineas has told you about everything?”

Philip nodded. “He told me how much he wants to make things right with you.”

“We’re getting there.” Said Charity. “He talks a lot about how he realised that he was wrong, how much he cares about me and the girls. But Phineas is very good at talk; I need to see actions too.”

“Are you?”

“Sometimes - he’s definitely trying. But he still devotes so much of his energy to the circus, there’s only so much left for us.”

Philip watched Anne flip herself upside down on a trapeze bar as she swung through the air. “That’s only because he cares so much about the people here.” He said.

“I know.” Said Charity. “He really does – he talks about the show a lot, he’s so excited for the reopening. And he’s still trying to work out how to combine fire acts with dangerous animals.”

“How _do_ you put up with him?” said Philip with a smile.

“Because I love him.” Said Charity, seriously. “How do _you_ put up with him?” Her expression was as sweet as ever, but Philip felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Charity’s words echoed in his mind – _how do you put up with him?_

Philip looked down into the ring, where Barnum was trying to get an elephant to take his top hat from him.

_Because I love him._

It was true, so true that Philip couldn’t believe that he hadn’t realised it before. His feelings for Barnum were not simply friendship and physical attraction – Philip was in love with him.

It was like everything melted away. Charity, the circus performers, the noise of it all – Philip was no longer aware of it. And all he saw was Barnum; that ridiculous, eccentric, _beautiful_ man. Barnum, who looked like everything Philip had left his old life for, like everything Philip wanted. Barnum, who Philip was in love with.

And, far above him, Anne swung through the air towards Philip. And he knew what he had to do.

It didn’t take long to sort everything out. He made his excuses to Charity and slipped out of the circus, and after that it was as simple as a trip the bank. And then, back at the circus, he asked after Barnum and Charles told him that he was in his office.

And then, all too soon, Philip was knocking on the office door.

“Come in.” said Barnum. He turned around, and when Philip saw the look of hope on Barnum’s face it almost broke him. He wanted to forget his plan, to go to Barnum and never let him go.

But what he actually did was hold out the cheque.

“What’s this?” said Barnum, cheerfully.

Philip’s throat was tight. “This is my contribution to the circus. I’m dissolving our partnership.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos guys, it makes my day XD Chapter title is from Love Love Love by the Mountain Goats!


	12. Got To Get Away From Myself

Watching Barnum’s face fall felt like physical pain. It felt like a slap, like smoke in his lungs.

“Why?” said Barnum. “Philip – what’s wrong?”

Philip was scared that he might cry if he spoke. He hated that he was doing this, hated himself for hurting Barnum like this. “I can’t work here anymore.” He said, and he looked away so that Barnum wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Barnum reached out and took the cheque from him. “Very well.” He said quietly. It wrenched at Philip’s heart, and he knew that he had to get out before he started crying. So he turned, and he walked out of the office, and he didn’t look back.

“Philip?” It was Anne. “Are you okay?”

Philip had to leave, had to get away from everyone. “I’m fine.” He said, even though it obviously couldn’t have been further from the truth. “I just… have to go.”

With his face turned to the ground, he began to walk away from her. The ground around the circus tent was so muddy, and he remembered Barnum prancing around this field a few months before, and he wished he could forget.

“Philip!” Anne was running after him. He stopped. Turned. “Why won’t you talk to me?” She said.

He just shook his head.

“I know that things are hard for you at the moment.” She said, and there were tears in her eyes. “So if you need to be alone, that’s okay. But you don’t have to pretend to be alright when you’re not. I don’t want you to be anything other than your real self with me, Philip.”

Philip didn’t know how to tell her how much he loved her, how to tell her that the reason he was pulling away from her was because he loved her so much that he’d just had to do something he hated. He’d done it for her; he had to stay away from Barnum for Anne’s sake.

He just nodded; he was too choked up to speak anyway. On an impulse, he leant in and kissed her on the forehead.

“I’ll see you again soon.” She said.

Philip went home. He was didn’t have much of a plan for when he got there, but he considered going back to bed. What time was it anyway? It didn’t matter, though. Because, when he got to his apartment, he found his mother waiting outside the door, dressed all in black.

Philip’s father was dead. He had thought that when it finally happened he would feel some mix of sadness and relief, but he didn’t. He didn’t feel a lot of anything. In his living room, he asked his mother how she was feeling, and she seemed to share his numbness.

“I’m making sure that all of my affairs are in order.” She told him. “I’ll see to it that you get a share of the money – it’s only fair.”

“I don’t want anything from him.” Said Philip.

“But it’s your _right_ Philip – and besides, you need it. Look at this place – you should be living somewhere far more respectable.”

Philip just shook his head, and she sighed and said, “We can work something out at a later date.”

“What are you going to do now?” he asked her.

“Well, there’s the funeral to organise. And after that I’m going to sell the house, find somewhere more suitable to live by myself, with a more manageable household, fewer staff. And then… I suppose I’ll see what life’s like without him.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “And work on getting to know my son, of course.”

In the days between Mr Carlyle’s death and his funeral, Philip split his time between helping his mother with the arrangements, and disconnectedly idling around his apartment. He did his best to avoid Anne, and Barnum, and everyone else from the circus.

It was beginning to sink in that he really _had_ left, but the practicalities of it hadn’t sorted themselves out in his mind yet. What was he going to do with himself now? How would he make money – would he return to his old work in theatre? How would this affect his relationship with Anne? All of these questions seemed unanswerable, and Philip told himself that they were issues to focus on after the funeral.

Anne came to his apartment one day, offering to come with him to the funeral – apparently everyone had seen the obituary in the papers. Philip refused.

Barnum came later the same day, but Philip saw him approaching and gave no answer when Barnum knocked on the door. It hurt every part of him to treat Barnum like this but he couldn’t give in to himself, couldn’t see him, because he knew that would be all the more painful.

He went to the funeral alone, in a black suit. He wasn’t sure why – it wasn’t like he had any respects to pay to his father – but maybe there was still a part of him that did things because they were expected of him.

“Thank you for coming.” His mother said to him afterwards. They were walking through the churchyard together, away from the other mourners.

Philip just nodded, and glanced back at the crowd of figures in black. All of those rich and respectable people – how many of them turned around and hurt their wives and children behind closed doors? God, Philip hated the upper-class world.

“I’ve decided I’m going to change my name,” said his mother, “To give myslef some distance from your father.”

“Oh?” said Philip. “What are you changing it to?”

“Bailey – it was my maiden name.”

“Bailey.” Philip tried the name out. “I like it.

Philip left earlier than most of the people at the funeral, but only once he was sure that his mother was alright. But he needn’t’ve worried – she seemed ready to embrace her newfound independence, a completely different woman to the one who had arrived at his apartment in floods of tears when her husband had first become ill.

He walked home by himself, taking a longer route than necessary so that he wouldn’t get too close to the circus. His conversation with his mother was still filling his mind.

 _Bailey. Mr Philip Bailey._ He wasn’t sure about it.

 _Mr Bailey._ It certainly didn’t hold the same connotations as _Mr Carlyle._ Mr Carlyle was his father – a violent and short-tempered man far more concerned with the appearance of propriety than the substance of his relationships. Philip wanted to be as little like his father as possible – wanted his wife and children to feel safe around him, wanted them to love him the way he would love them.

When had Philip started thinking of a wife and children as an inevitability, rather than something far off and improbable?

There had been a time when his relationship with Anne had seemed as though it could be a lasting thing, but in his efforts to protect it, Philip thought he might have done the opposite. Leaving the circus had been supposed to help him stay loyal to Anne, but he’d been avoiding her ever since.

By the time he got home, Philip didn’t feel numb anymore. Instead, he felt worse than ever. He discarded his coat and shoes before pouring himself a glass of whisky, hoping that he could drink his feelings away. But the taste of it reminded him painfully of Barnum, of that wonderful moment when he’d thought they were about to kiss, and all of his guilt came rushing back.

In the end, he just went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'Drop Me In The Water' by Our Lady Peace :)


	13. I'd Do The Stars With You Anytime

At some point the next day, Philip saw Barnum walking up to his apartment building. Why had Philip been looking out of the window? He didn’t know, didn’t know what he was doing with himself in general.

He’d woken early, gone back to sleep, finally rolled out of bed around eleven. Hadn’t done much since. What was there to do, now that he didn’t have the circus?

There was a knocking on Philip’s door – Barnum. Philip ignored it. The knocking continued.

 “Philip!” Came Barnum’s voice. “I know you’re there!”

Philip tried to continue ignoring him, but Barnum was persistent. He continued to shout through the door, continued to bang on it. Goddamn, Barnum was not a man who was easy to ignore.

“What on earth is all this noise about?” Another voice, one of Philip’s neighbours. And then, yet another voice, “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Oh, for god’s sake. Philip stormed into the hall and flung open the door, to see Barnum arguing with an extremely agitated porter.

“It’s fine.” Philip said with a sigh. “He’s my guest.” They both looked at him, the porter suspiciously and Barnum a little surprised.

“Very well, sir.” Said the porter. “But please keep the noise down.”

He stalked off, and Philip was left alone with Barnum.

“That’s exactly what it’s like living with Charity’s parents.” Said Barnum, taking his hat off and sweeping a hand through his hair. He still looked flustered.

Philip didn’t respond, he simply stepped inside his apartment and waited for Barnum to follow him.

“Can I talk to you?” Said Barnum. When Philip turned, he was still standing in the doorway.

“If it will stop you from trying to break down my door again.” Philip responded, working to keep his voice level.

Barnum stepped inside, letting the door swing closed behind him. Philip walked away from him, into the living room, and this time Barnum came after him.

“Why are you leaving the circus?” Barnum said, as soon as they entered the room.

This was what Philip had been avoiding so desperately. “Because…” there was only one excuse he could think of, and he hated the idea of using it. But it was all he had. “I’ve had enough of this life. My mother offered me the chance to get my inheritance back if I -”

“Bullshit.” Barnum cut across him. “I know you, Philip. I know what the circus means to you, what Anne means to you, and I don’t believe for a second that you would go back to how you lived before.”

Philip faltered, and Barnum softened.

“Don’t do this, Philip.” He said, in that low voice that made Philip melt.

“I have to.” He choked out. “I can’t be a part of the circus anymore, PT.”

“ _Why_?” Barnum burst out. Philip flinched, his hands twitching with the instinct to cover his face. He hoped that Barnum noticed, but he obviously had, because he took a deep breath, and when he spoke again it was with an obvious effort not to raise his voice. “I’ve said you can take time off for your family matters – for God’s sake Philip, just tell me what you need!”

“Can’t you just _stop?”_ Philip found himself shouting back. “Can’t you just accept my decision and leave me alone?”  
“We’re supposed to be partners, Philip!” The volume of Barnum’s voice was creeping up again.

“You don’t need me!” Philip protested. “You’ve got my money – isn’t that all I was there for?”

“For God’s sake, of course you weren’t just there for the money! When I hired you -”

“You hired me for a gateway to high society – and how did _that_ turn out?”

“You know it’s not about that anymore!” He couldn’t remember hearing Barnum shout like this before, but it wasn’t scaring him anymore. Barnum didn’t seem enraged the way Philip’s father always had, not even angry, he just seemed sad and frustrated.

“Then _what_?” Philip snapped.

“Because we’re partners! We’re supposed to make decisions together – isn’t that what you told me?”

“You are _perfectly_ capable of running the circus without me.” Philip’s voice cracked as he found himself fighting back tears.

“Just _talk to me_ about this!”

“I am _leaving_ the circus!” Philip yelled.

“ _Please_ , Philip!” Barnum shouted, holding up his hands with a look of desperation. “I _love_ you!”

It took a moment for Philip to register, to understand, what Barnum had said. And then Barnum was turning away from him, was rubbing his hands over his face.

“I should go.” Said Barnum. He toyed with his hat, turning it in his hands, still not looking at Philip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to -”

He tailed off, and Philip walked across the room, right up to Barnum, and said, “I love you too.”

Saying it aloud felt like a relief, like a weight being removed from Philip’s shoulders. Barnum looked up at him, and Philip saw that he too had tears in his eyes.

“When I was here the other night…” Barnum said.

“Were you going to kiss me?” asked Philip, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. This close, he didn’t need to speak any louder.

“If you wanted me too.” Said Barnum.

“I did.” Philip found himself laughing, even as tears slowly rolled down his face.

Barnum let his hat fall to the floor and stepped even closer to Philip, leaning in so that their foreheads were pressed together. Philip could feel Barnum’s hot breath on his face, could feel Barnum’s skin on his own. They were so close, and Philip couldn’t stop thinking about how little he would have to move to close the space between them.

Barnum lifted a hand to Philip’s face, and Philip’s breath hitched as Barnum’s thumb caressed his cheek.

And then Barnum said, “Please don’t leave the circus.” And Philip was brought back to reality with painful speed.

He pulled away from Barnum. “PT, we can’t.” He said. “This is why I dissolved our partnership – I can’t be with you. I – Anne – Charity – we _can’t._ ”

Barnum’s brow was furrowed, his face full of pain. “You’re right, Philip - right as always.”

“I wish I wasn’t.” said Philip. The anguished look on Barnum’s face did nothing to make him less attractive, and Philip longed to return to the intimacy of a moment ago, to be close to Barnum again.

And then someone said, “Philip?”

Philip whirled round, to see Anne standing in the doorway. Panic flooded his mind – how much had she seen, how much had she heard?

“Anne!” he said.

“Your front door wasn’t shut properly.” Anne was looking from Philip to Barnum and back again, like she was trying to work out what was going on. Oh, lord.

“Oh.” Said Philip, and then, “Why are you here?”

“There’s a rumour going round that you’re leaving the circus – I came to ask you why everyone thinks that. But now I think I might know why.”

“It’s – Anne – let me explain.” Said Philip, hastily. He had no idea _how_ exactly he was going to explain, but he was determined not to let this ruin everything. He had already thrown away his job at the circus – he wasn’t about to lose Anne too.

“I should go.” Said Barnum, looking at Philip like he was waiting for his consent. “At least, if that’s what you need.”

“Okay.” Said Philip.

Barnum put his hat on. “We’ll finish our conversation soon.” He said, firmly.

And then he was gone, and Philip was left alone with Anne’s penetrating gaze. He felt it pressing into him; he couldn’t look at her.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she said.

“Nothing happened.” Philip said. His whole body was tensed, like even though he knew that this was Anne and not his father he was still preparing for blows.

“Philip.” She said, and she didn’t sound angry but Philip could feel himself shaking slightly with fear. And when Anne stepped up and reached out to touch him, Philip flinched away automatically.

“Sweetheart.” She said. “I’m sorry. Just – please talk to me. It’s okay.”

“We didn’t do anything.” Said Philip, the words tumbling out of him. “I would never – I love you, Anne – I left the circus because – so I wouldn’t – I promise I didn’t -”

“But you wanted to?”

It was all out now. He may as well tell the truth. “I love him.”

Her expression was hard to read.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Philip continued. “I don’t understand, but I love both of you.”

“You told him?” She said. Her voice was level; she still didn’t seem angry. But surely she must be?

“He told _me._ ” Philip admitted. “I mean, he said he loved me. But I promise that nothing else happened – I would never -”

“I believe you, Philip! But listen to me – if you and Barnum love each other, you shouldn’t have to stay apart because of me.”

“What?” was all Philip could say.

“Please don’t leave the circus because of this – it’s making you miserable.”

Philip wanted so desperately to believe it was as simple as that, but ne knew that it wasn’t. Keeping his distance from Barnum wasn’t just to stop Anne from finding out, it was to stop her from getting _hurt._

“You don’t understand.” He said.

“I think I do.”

“You don’t!” he burst out. “I can’t be around him! It hurts too much – it’s going to end up hurting everyone.”

Her gaze was intense, thoughtful. “Because you can’t be with him?”

“Yes! Because I’m with you, and he’s _married_ for God’s sake! And you know that two men can’t be together, that’s just…”

He felt like he might start crying again.

“Just what?” said Anne. “Not the done thing? Since when has that mattered to you Philip?”

Philip wiped the tears from his eyes. God, he was a mess. “Oh Anne, what on earth am I going to do about this?”

Her gaze was steady. “I think that if you loved him, you would rewrite the stars to be with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, what an angsty cheese-fest. Or a cheesy angst-fest? It's cheesy and angsty, is what I'm trying to say XD Song title from Romeo and Juliet by the Dire Straits!


	14. I Don't Want Easy, I Want Crazy

Anne was looking at him like she’d just said something that made perfect sense, rather than something that was threatening to change everything.

“What do you mean?” he said. “I can’t just… what about Charity? The girls? What about _you?”_

A smile played with the corner of Anne’s mouth. “Everyone is telling you that you can’t be with me and you can’t be with him – but you love us both. So why not try to find a way to be with us both?”

 _Both._ Philip couldn’t imagine it.

“Do you think it would work?” he said. “Is that even… possible?”

“Hasn’t Barnum always said that he makes the impossible come true?” Said Anne with a raised eyebrow.

Philip laughed. “Did I ever tell you that you’re amazing?”

“Not often enough.” Anne grinned.

“Well, you are.” He said.

She leaned in and kissed him gently, then pulled away and straightened his tie. “What would you say to the idea of going and seeing the Barnums? I’ll come with you – I think this is something we need to talk about.”

Philip felt the fear bubbling up in his stomach again. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She nodded. “I think we need to sort this out – it’s obviously making both of you unhappy. Barnum’s been miserable since you stopped coming to the circus.”

“He has?”

“Of course he has – and so have I. Come on, get your coat – we’re going to see them.”

And that was how Philip found himself on a train out of the city. They had a compartment to themselves, than goodness, and Philip watched the countryside flowing past outside the window, as he wondered what the hell he was going to say to Barnum. And to _Charity._

“What am I doing, Anne?” he groaned.

“We need to do this.” She slipped her hand into his. “If I’ve learned anything from you it’s that if you love someone, you should try to be together.”

Philip turned away from the window and looked at Anne. And he loved her, he loved that she was doing this for him. He squeezed her hand.

“Thank you.” He said, which didn’t make sense. But she nodded.

“I want us to be honest with each other – I want to try to make this work. I just don’t want us to end up like my parents. I’m sure you know how that feels.”

“I certainly do.” Said Philip with a wry smile. And then he realised something. “You’ve never actually told me anything about your father.”

Anne looked away. “I suppose I didn’t know how to.”

“Oh.” Said Philip. “You don’t have to.”

“No.” she said, shaking her head. “It’s fine, it’s not as bad as – I mean, he wasn’t like your father. But he left my mother – left all of us.”

How could anyone bear to leave Anne? “I’m sorry.” Said Philip, squeezing her hand again.

“It’s okay.” She said. “I didn’t even know him, but it was hard on my mother. After WD’s father died, I suppose she thought she’d found someone who would be there for her. But he left her before I was even born.”

“Why?”

She sighed, quietly. “He was white. They lived in Maine – you know mixed marriages are illegal there? They were going to leave the state, get married, but he was scare, I suppose. Scared of what people would think.”

And Philip felt like he understood something. “Is that why you thought we wouldn’t work out?”

“I think that was part of it.”

Philip let go of Anne’s hand, but only so he could put his arm round her shoulders, pull her against his chest. “We’re not gonna be like our parents.” He told her. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” She said, and he could hear her smiling. He kissed the top of her head.

All too soon, the train was pulling into the station and Philip and Anne were making their way out towards the Halletts’ house. They walked side by side in silence, but when they reached the driveway, Anne took Philip’s hand again.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Said Anne, as they approached the grandiose mountain of the front steps.

Philip felt too sick with nerves to reply. As they walked up the steps, his legs were shaking slightly. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was scared of – seeing Charity? Seeing Barnum again? Confronting reality, maybe.

Anne knocked on the door, and a butler opened it and frowned at them. He looked at their linked hands with disdain, but it only made Philip hold Anne’s hand tighter.

“We’re here to see Mr and Mrs Barnum.” Said Anne.

“Mr and Mrs Barnum are not available for visitors at this time.” Said the butler.

“What?” said Anne. “Can’t you tell them that we’re here?”

The butler looked like he was about to refuse, but a voice rang out from the atrium behind him. “Is that Philip and Anne? Just the people I wanted to see!”

Charity Barnum appeared behind the butler. “Thank you for receiving our guests, but I will see to them now.” She flashed the man a charming smile, and he dipped his head to her and retreated.

“Hello, you two.” She said. Barnum stepped into view behind her. “Philip – how are you?”

She was behaving so _normally_ that Philip didn’t know how to react. He stumbled over his words, and then Charity pulled him into a hug. He smelt her sweet perfume as he cautiously put his arms around her waist and hugged her back, and then she leant in and whispered, “I think you and Phineas should go and take a walk, don’t you?”

When Philip stepped away, he made eye contact with Barnum, who gave him a sheepish smile.

Charity turned to Anne. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“You know, that would be lovely.” Said Anne. Both of them were giving Philip knowing smiles.

Charity stepped back to allow Anne into the hallway, and then Philip saw her give Barnum a nudge towards Philip. Barnum said something under his breath that sounded like “Okay, I’m going.” And then he strode towards the door and joined Philip on the front steps.

“What was that about?” said Philip.

Barnum pulled the door shut behind them. “I talked to Charity.” He said. He set off down the steps, and Philip hurried to catch up to him. “I told her what happened between us.”

“Anne worked it out.” Philip told him. Barnum was leading him away from the manicured gardens, out into wide open space; Philip could hear the sea not far off.

They walked in silence for a while; Barnum didn’t say anything, and Philip didn’t press him. He just walked.

After a while, Barnum said “I think Charity had worked it out as well.” The wind tousled his hair, tugged at his tie. “She has this idea that if we love each other, then we should… how did she put it? ‘Not allow social convention to get in the way of our happiness’.”

Philip felt a warm glow starting somewhere inside of him, and he allowed himself to break into a smile. “That’s pretty much what Anne said to me.”

Barnum stopped walking. They were at the crest of a grassy dune, the beach spread out before them. And beyond that, the vast grey ocean. He turned and gazed down at Philip. “I love you, Philip.” He said.

“I love you too.” Said Philip. He was grinning now, and so was Barnum.

This time, when Barnum put his hand on Philip’s face, he didn’t pull away. He felt Barnum’s thumb caressing his cheek, and it was _finally_ happening, and Philip finally didn’t have to feel guilty.

And then Barnum was leaning in and gently pressing his lips to Philip’s. _Finally._ And Philip’s hands were on Barnum’s waist, desperately pulling him closer, and Barnum’s mouth was so warm against his. And Philip felt like someone who had never doubted his love for this man, like someone who had never hated the part of him that felt it. And maybe it wasn’t that simple, maybe everything that he’d learned from his father would come back to him, but in that moment there was nothing but Barnum’s lips and Barnum’s hand and the warm glow of happiness that engulfed them both.

And Barnum caught Philip’s lower lip between both of his own, and ran his hand over Barnum’s chest, and _goddamn_ this felt good. He was torn between his to stay here on this windy dune forever, and his desire to get Barnum alone somewhere more private, so that he could do all of the things that he was finally allowing himself to imagine.

When they eventually broke apart, Barnum rested his forehead against Philip’s.

“PT…” Philip said, breathlessly.

Barnum let out a low laugh. “I think you can call me Phineas, if you want to.”

“ _Phineas_.” Said Philip, and then he leant forward and kissed Barnum again, because he could. Because this time, his father wasn’t here to drag him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos guys :) Chapter title from 'I want crazy' by Hunter Hayes


	15. This Is Where You Wanna Be

On the day that the circus was due to reopen and give the first show since the fire, Philip woke up beside Phineas Taylor Barnum. The past few weeks had been an exhausting blur, full of awkward conversations and stolen kisses and endless rehearsals as Philip found himself trying to navigate a new relationship as the circus geared up for the big reopening.

Philip and Phineas’ relationship had been building up slowly since that first kiss, but last night had been the first time that both of them had truly let go of their inhibitions. They had been at the circus until late the evening before, rehearsing and making sure that everything was going to run smoothly, and they had both left high on the energy of the performance. And Phineas buzzing with energy was too much for Philip to resist.

They had started kissing the moment they got inside Philip’s apartment, and inevitably ended up in the bedroom together. A long time ago, Phineas had promised to break down Philip’s walls, and goddamn, he had kept that promise. His kisses had made Philip dissolve; his experienced hands had made him come undone. And Phineas in bed was exactly like Phineas everywhere else: energetic and eccentric and _talkative,_ his voice a low rumble in Philip’s ear that was almost better than his touch.

And now, in the warm glow of the spring morning, Phineas stirred and sleepily pushed his head into Philip’s bare shoulder.

“Good morning.” Laughed Philip.

“Mmm.” Said Phineas. All Philip could see was the top of his dark curls.

Philip strained his neck to see the clock on the other side of the room without dislodging Phineas. “It’s ten o’clock.” He realised. “We should probably be getting to the circus.”

Phineas tilted his head up, so that when we spoke his breath tickled the side of Philip’s face. “You told everyone to take the day off, remember? I believe you insisted we ‘rest up before the show’.”

“I did.” Philip admitted. “But I thought we could use the opportunity to go over the accounts and make sure that everything is ready for reopening.”

“Or we could… not do that.” Phineas rolled over so that he was lying on top of Philip, his head buried in the crook of Philip’s neck. “I can think of better ways to spend today.” His breath was hot against Philip’s ear, his voice a growl that made Philip melt.

And something about it brought back a memory. Lying in bed, Phineas’ voice in his ear. “Did you visit me when I was in the hospital?”

“Hmm?” It was more of a hum than a word. Phineas’ lips nibbled at Philip’s ear.

“After the fire – I thought I remembered you visiting me – I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not.”

“Of course I visited you.” Said Phineas, and Philip thought maybe he had had more to say on the subject, but Phineas was trailing kisses down his neck and Philip couldn’t focus anymore.

In the end, they didn’t get to the circus early. In fact, they got there rather late, after most of the other performers and staff. 

“Hi.” Said Anne. She was already dressed for the performance, but her hair was still loose and wild. Philip brushed some stray strands away from her face, and then leant in to kiss her.

“You look amazing.” She said, a trace of shyness in her smile.

“Thanks.” Philip had decided to wear his ringmaster’s jacket, even though his only role in this show was to stand in the shadows. He thought that the reopening deserved some ceremonial garb.

“Is it odd that I’m nervous?” said Anne. “We’ve done so many shows before, but this…”

“It feels important.” Philip finished. “I’m nervous, and I’m not even performing.”

She laughed. “That’s _definitely_ odd.”

 

.x.

 

The lights were low and it felt like the crowd was holding its breath, quivering with silent anticipation. And then Phineas’ voice rang out, rich and seductive. “Ladies and gents – boys and girls! This is the moment you’ve waited for!”

And then, footsteps, somewhere in the dark. And then the silhouette in a top hat running into the ring, and the whole ring was a glow of lights that illuminated the rest of the circus troupe. And then Philip was watching Rita throwing knives, was watching the lions and the elephants, was watching Anne be propelled into the air, was watching _Phineas._ And in that moment, he never wanted to stop watching.

The energy of the crowd was better than ever, and Philip felt every gasp, every round of applause. The show that they had been practising for weeks came together perfectly, all of Phineas’ ridiculous ideas and Philip’s practice ones flowing together seamlessly. And when Philip saw the lions jump through the rings of fire, he had to admit that Phineas had been onto something.

Phineas met Philip’s eye briefly, and for a moment it felt like being back in those early run-throughs, like the show was just for him. And then Phineas turned around and handed his hat to an elephant, and even that seemed perfect. The elephant tossed the hat into the air, to Anne, and then it made it’s way from one performer to the next.

When Lettie handed the hat back to Phineas, he didn’t put it on. Instead, he turned and ran out of the ring, over to where Philip was standing.

“This is for you.” He was slightly breathless, the energy of the performance rolling off him as he held the hat out to Philip. His face broke out into a grin at Philip’s confusion. Goddamn, that grin. Those dimples. He was holding the hat out in front of him, and Philip realised that Phineas was handing him more than just a top hat.

He put the hat on. “What will you be doing?” he asked.

“Watching my girls grow up.” Said Phineas, tossing Philip his ringmaster’s cane. “The show must go on.” Philip returned Phineas’ grin only for a moment, and then he was running into the ring, and he was surrounded by a blur of colour and excitement.

This was something he’d been waiting for since the circus had begun working to reopen, but, he realised, it was something he’d wanted for a lot longer. The chance to really be part of something, to work amid a group of people who accepted and cared for each other. The chance to be with a girl he loved. The chance to have _an act._

And at the end of the show, Philip kissed Anne right in front of everyone. And the audience applauded.

 

.x.

 

As the audience began to filter out of the tent, the energy and the revelry was so strong that it took Philip and the rest of the circus ensemble a little longer than it should have to realise that Barnum had disappeared.

“Didn’t he tell you he was leaving?” said Anne, as she brushed out her hair in the dressing room.

“He didn’t even tell me he was leaving the _ring.”_ Philip leant against a dresser as the rest of the oddities moved around him in a blur of celebration. “I was as surprised as anyone when he gave me the hat.”

A part of him wanted to be annoyed at Phineas for disappearing like that, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be. He was still far too euphoric from the show. People kept on hugging him or clapping him on the back and telling him he’d been amazing – the whole thing felt slightly surreal.

The door of the dressing room was flung open, as a flustered-looking animal handler ran in and called out “One of the elephants is missing!”

There was one or two mutters of concern, before everyone collectively made the connection.

“What on earth are we going to do with that man?” Lettie laughed.

The show was over, but the festivities were only just beginning as the circus quickly descended into joyful chaos. Or ever more joyful chaos than usual. Everyone was milling around the tent, talking and laughing and opening bottled of champagne. Someone produced a violin, and Philip twirled Anne around the ring as the others clapped for them. And Philip wove through the crowd, trying to thank and congratulate everyone who had made that night possible.

“Hello, ringmaster.” Said a velvety growl behind him. Philip turned around to see Barnum grinning down at him.

“I hope you’ve come to return our stolen elephant.” Said Philip, unable to stop himself from smiling and somewhat ruining the effect.

Phineas had changed out of his ringmaster’s outfit and was now wearing an elegant and ridiculous purple velvet suit. “I had to leave when I did if I wanted to make it to my daughters’ ballet show.” He said. He leaned in close enough that their foreheads almost touched; Phineas’ hand played with the brocade on the front of Philip’s jacket.

“So when you said you were going to be watching your girls grow up…?”

Phineas let out a low laugh. “I meant it in both the short and long-term, yes. And I really am handing over the ringmaster position to you.” He paused, and pulled back a little in order to fix Philip with an intense gaze. “But only if that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

 _Sweetheart._ The Philip who had agreed to Barnum’s business deal all those months ago would never have imagined that the man could be this tender.

“What happened to us being partners? To neither of us leaving?”

“Oh, I’m not going to be leaving.” That wicked grin of his played across Phineas’ lips. “I am merely prioritising. I need more time to spend with my family – and _you_ need a role in the circus. You’re extremely valuable as an advisor, but you are _incredible_ as a performer.”

“So you’ll be, what, advising now?”

“I’ll carry on coming up with ideas.” Said Phineas. “And of course I’ll be here for the business side of things. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… great.” Philip admitted.

“ _There_ you are!” Lettie appeared from somewhere, giving Phineas an admonishing glare and a glass of champagne. Which somewhat undermined the effects of the glare.

So they drank, and they danced, and they celebrated, and eventually Philip found himself in a corner with Anne, saying “I love you so much, and I love him, and I love that I can love you both.”

He was a little tipsy, but not as drunk as he probably sounded. He’d decided that getting drunk so often was probably a bad idea.

“I love you too.” Said Anne. And then, “Hey, Philip?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think we should get married?”

“Yes.” He said. “Yes. Absolutely.” And then, “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?”

She laughed again. Whenever she laughed, he wished he could stay in that moment forever. “Why would we want to do what we’re _supposed to?_ ”


	16. As Long As Stars Are Above You

And so, on a sunny day in June, Philip Carlyle married Anne Wheeler, and left behind his status as a bachelor. No – Philip _Bailey_ left behind his status as a bachelor – it went the way of his notability, his inheritance, and his last name.

The ceremony was a simple one, performed by the first priest Philip had been able to find who would cheerfully allow it. A child of a mixed marriage himself, the man was only too happy to give them his blessing.

When Philip had been younger, he had thought that he would never marry, because to him marriage had meant tradition and restriction, and a lifetime of faking attraction to a person of a gender he had no interest in. But when it finally happened his wedding was far from traditional – Anne in a violet dress as she was given away by her brother, and the man who Philip loved in the front row. Not to mention a congregation almost entirely made up of circus oddities.

As Philip and Anne said their vows, Philip’s mother was dabbing her eyes on a lace handkerchief, seated between Charity Barnum and Lettie. Something else Philip could never have imagined.

And afterwards, she was the first to congratulate them both.

“I am looking forward to getting to know my new daughter in law.” She said to Philip, once Anne was preoccupied by being smothered in affectionate congratulations by the circus troupe.

Philip was slowly forging a new relationship with his mother. It had been hard, at first, to look at her without seeing the memory of his father, but they were getting there. And, at least, she was trying, even when Philip seemed to go out of his way to challenge the lifestyle she was accustomed to.

“I have a gift for the two of you.” She said. “If you won’t take a share of you’re father’s money -” Philip opened his mouth to insist that he was happy without it, but she persevered. “If you wont take it as inheritance, at leas take some of it a wedding present.”

“I’ll think about it.” He said. And then, because that sounded cold, “Thank you.”

And then Phineas and Charity were at Philip’s side, and Caroline and Helen were squealing and hugging him.

“I’m so happy for you both.” Charity beamed.

Phineas gave him a mischevious grin. “If everyone can spare you for a moment, I have something to show you.”

“Oh yeah?” Philip said.

“Come on girls, give Philip some room to breathe.” Said Charity.

Phineas took Philip by the hand, as though that was a perfectly normal thing for two men to do at one of their weddings. Nobody seemed to notice, though, even the biggest threats – Philip’s mother and the priest – were engaged in conversation, so Phineas was able to lead Philip to the door without it causing an issue.

 “It’s my wedding present for you” he said, “although Charity insisted we buy the two of you something sensible as well.”

Philip laughed, and pushed open the door. They dropped each other’s hands as they stepped into the bright summer day, but stayed close together as Phineas led Philip around the corner.

That was when he saw it – it was hard to miss. A new advertising poster for the circus, dominated by a vivid drawing of Anne hanging upside down from her aerial hoop, Philip looking up at her from the ground. And, at the top of the poster, the words ‘Barnum and Bailey’s Greatest Show on Earth’.

Philip slowly broke into a grin. “Barnum and _Bailey.”_ he said.

“I thought it was only fair, now that you’re the ringmaster.” Said Phineas.

“Thank you.” Said Philip, turning to look up at Phineas. And then, because he couldn’t resist, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Said Phineas.

“ _There_ you are Philip!” Anne’s voice came from the street corner, and Philip and Phineas both turned around. “We’ve only been married five minutes and you’ve already disappeared.” She gave him a teasing grin, and then Philip kissed her.

“Anne, congratulations.” Said Phineas, suavely dipping his head to her.

Anne slipped one hand into Philip’s. “Come on, let’s get back to the others before we’re late to our own party.”

Even though they were in public, even though anyone could have seen them, Philip used his other hand to take Phineas’. “Lead the way, Mrs Bailey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this I definitely didn't plan on it ever getting this cheesy, it just sort of happened XD Chapter title is from 'How Long Will I Love You' by Ellie Goulding
> 
> Thanks for reading, y'all, and thanks for all the kudos and amazing comments!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [i like seeing you smile everyday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861906) by [zelophobia (agateophobia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agateophobia/pseuds/zelophobia)




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